


Anthology

by GREATSHOW



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, F/F, Flash Fic, Flash Fiction, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 10:09:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17423894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GREATSHOW/pseuds/GREATSHOW
Summary: A series of flash fictions (fictional works of extreme brevity that still offer character and plot development) featuring Kara and Lena. Will consist of a variety of stories. A new story with each entry. Updates every other day or week. If any entry sounds like something you'd want see become a multi-chapter story, state so in the comments section and/or on Tumblr.





	Anthology

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Tumblr is <https://greatshow1.tumblr.com/>.  

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I was starting to perspire shooting my free throws while engaged in my daily basketball practice, and my throat longed for some water or Gatorade, which meant I'd have to interact with the attractive but gloomy water girl who always gave me too little liquid to quench my thirst. Just yesterday, she'd only given me a swig of Gatorade and had offered my fellow teammates more before turning her back to me, and I resumed shooting free throws because it was all I could do to keep my mind off my frustration and to not let on that I was bothered by her slight. It was mentally draining, wondering what I had done to deserve such disrespect and whether or not I should confront the rude girl, who always addressed me with "What you want?" when I stepped to her, as if it wasn't clear that the only thing I could possibly want from her is something cold to drink and as if I'd want anything less than what the rest of my teammates get in their water bottles or cups. If I were to give her a piece of my mind, she might just spit in my slightly refreshing swig, which would no longer be refreshing, even slightly, with her slaver in it. She might yell at me, but I would likely go off in turn, ignorant to my own standing in comparison to hers, which was on firmer ground because she was the coach's daughter.  

If I confronted her and was thrown off the team, I'd be too embarrassed and prideful to show my face in this gym again. Sure, some or most would support me, but a number of those same people would look at me with less respect since I'm known as the peacemaker of the group. And those like my friend Winn would complain about how I wasn't aggressive enough when standing up to the girl because I, in his words, "never curse and always soften terms such as _bitch_ with f _emale puppy_ " and calling a woman a female puppy wasn't nearly as offensive as calling her a female dog. He would roll his eyes at my argument that I am simply a product of my upbringing with a "Whatever you say."

I was so engrossed in these musings that I suddenly coughed and thought, _wow,_ I'm drinking a lot right now! As I struggled to get my breathing under control on the bench, staring at the filled cup in my hand, I imagined a scenario involving stealth assassination, where the distracted target had been successfully poisoned. How dare the water girl fill my cup to the brim when I wasn't looking! I had obviously been too much in my own head to process the interaction and my parched throat had betrayed my brain, urging me to make a drinking motion even though the cup was bound to be empty.

And then I was no longer thirsty, and I subsequently was no longer frustrated or angry, and so I looked over to her as she stood a few feet away. And like clockwork, she answered me with a "What you want?", and I took in a deep, soothing breath and let her know in no uncertain terms that I want my cups served just like that last round, and she said, "Sure, Kara." And I was like... _What the hell?_ I was so taken aback that she called me by name that all of my previous unpleasant thoughts about her dissipated. And so, feeling a weight lifted and as though our rivalry, a rivalry in my mind at least, had ended, I probed a little further and asked, "And would you please alternate between water and Gatorade?” And she said, "Of course. Some players complain about too much liquid bogging them down and not needing much unless they are sweating profusely. Since you don't work up as much of a sweat as others, and you're one of our best players, I thought I was doing you a solid by only giving you a bit. But when I saw you there, sweating the way you were... Anyhow, now I know different." She smiled with what I thought was a very charming laugh escaping her throat, and I knew I'd try to never misjudge anyone ever again.

 

 

 

 


End file.
